


coming home

by thegraceinyoureyes



Series: Ransom/Holster tumblr prompts [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 05:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8316385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraceinyoureyes/pseuds/thegraceinyoureyes
Summary: “I just- I need to do better.” Holster’s voice comes small in the space between his mouth and Ransom’s collarbone. His hand flexes against Ransom’s side.





	

**Author's Note:**

> huge thank you to [coco](http://holsterr.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!

The thing is, Holster thinks he’s the stealthiest motherfucker on the planet. He’s convinced of this fact - despite all evidence to the contrary - namely, that he’s a 6”4, 200 pound professional athlete who’d once woken up the entire Haus by falling up both flights of stairs coming back from the library. He was also completely sober at the time.

Point is, that words like ’stealthy’ or ‘quiet’, just don’t apply to Holster. Which is why watching him attempt to sneak in at six in the morning after getting back from an away game is one of the most ridiculous things Ransom has witnessed all week. He’s not entirely certain if he’s having a caffeine-filled hallucination.

“Bro.” He checks, from the couch, where he’s surrounded by his laptop, books, and half-drunk cups of coffee.

Holster freezes in the middle of placing his bag on the floor. “Um.” He blinks at Ransom in the dim morning light, eyes gradually narrowing, “Have you been up all night?”

“Test on Friday.” Ransom shrugs.

He doesn’t mention the game.

Holster sighs, letting his bag fall to the floor to cross the room in three quick strides. He gives Ransom the time to set aside his laptop before crawling into his lap, curling his arms around Ransom’s waist so that they’re both horizontal, Holster’s head under Ransom’s chin.

Ransom holds him close, and lets Holster take what he needs.

“I just- I need to do better.” Holster’s voice comes small in the space between his mouth and Ransom’s collarbone. His hand flexes against Ransom’s side.

Ransom cups the back of his neck. “Hey, that’s my line.” It works, and Holster snorts with laughter, his grip on Ransom’s shirt easing.

“You will do, babe.” Ransom says. He presses a kiss into Holster’s hair.

“I know this is my first season, but I need to prove myself. And I- I  _ can’t _ -“

“Yes, you can.”

“But-“

“But nothing,” Ransom interrupts, voice rising in the quiet apartment. “It’s not because of you that Richter shot wide on an empty goddamn net, is it?”

He feels a smile press into his shoulder. “No.” 

“Exactly. You’re a fucking fantastic hockey player, okay? Don’t doubt that for a second.”

Holster lifts his head and looks down at him, eyes mostly in shadow. The sun isn’t quite up yet, but Ransom doesn’t need to be see to picture the look of dumb affection there.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

“You texted me those exact words three times yesterday.” Ransom laughs. 

The corners of Holster’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Just making sure you know.”

Holster leans down to kiss him on their couch, a revision card digging into Ransom’s ear. The early dawn light creeps across the floor as Ransom sighs into it, stress and worry and tension bleeding out of him at the comforting press of Holster’s weight, pulling him closer, kissing him back, welcoming him home. 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://holtzy.tumblr.com)!


End file.
